Trouserpress

Turning 45 and having my birthday fun whisked away by the wife, I was ignoring my birthday, as I have most years since I went 30.

However, a very recent realisation has compelled me to reinstate it.

I found out this week that my birthday, September 21, is the International Day of Peace or Peace Day as decided by UN resolution.

Apparently, beginning in 1982, the UN decreed that the third Tuesday in September would be Peace Day. In 2002, they decided to fix this to September 21.

Presumably, this was done in recognition of my famously non-violent, pro-cat views.

I now think that that September 21st is a darn cool day to have a birthday and couldn’t be much more appropriate for me if they had declared it International Wine day or World Forgetting to Shave Day.

A former girlfriend has September 11 as her birthday. Ouch.

The idea of Peace Day is an annual one-day ceasefire, where all warring parties everywhere stop what they are doing and have a drink to celebrate my birthday and reflect on the utter arrogant stupidity of violence.

So tomorrow (September 21) you are not allowed to shoot anyone, let off any RPGs, drop any cluster or thermobaric bombs or even argue with your sibling.

I am once again proud of my birthday. I won’t just be 45 tomorrow, I will be a non-violent, anti-war 45 and I now wish I had arranged a proper surprise birthday party for myself.

Whoever designed this anti-drugs poster seen at Oji station must have been well stoned.

It is bad enough turning 45 as I will be soon. It is worse that your wife nicks your birthday fun.

I arrived home on Thursday night, hot puffed and pooped. However, I was intent on having an alcohol free day and getting an early night.

The house was in uproar as usual, with the usual arguments about TV, showers, homework and computer games. The TV was blaring to make itself heard above the din and in the middle of this my wife declaiming about our overdraft and all sorts of money stuff.

There was something in the post for me: a birthday card that my mother had sent me about ten days early. I opened it up and there was a ten thousand yen (£40)note inside which I stuffed in my pocket. Nice. That’ll do for some Glenmorangie and/or some books or CDs.

Meanwhile my wife’s lament about money was grinding on. I started to feel guilty about the 10k in my pocket — never mind the fact that outside is still standing, rotting and unused the scooter she bought two and a half years ago for 120,000 not including tax and insurance which she has never, and I mean never, used.

I dug out the note and offered it to the wife. “Do you want this?”

“No, it’s … OK.” And she took the note and stuffed it in her wallet.

I felt suddenly very silly and hard done by. I made straight for the fridge and grabbed the last can of beer and sulked off to my room. After the beer went a few glasses of wine and a very large vodka.

Well, I didn’t want a birthday anyway. I’ve had too many already.

Small additions to Psipook.

I dreamed last night that the dust kitties in my house had come alive and were attacking us. They were pretty scary and were running over the walls and ceiling faster than you would like them to. My wife panicked and was no use at all and I woke with a start and knocked over the vodka glass by my bed.

I just need to teach the cat to hoover …

Wieviel kostet es, um eine Fahne auf deinem blog zu entfalten?

I just got this in my spam folder. Pretty cool, eh?

According to Sherlock, it means, ‘How much does it cost, in order to unfold a flag on yours blog?’

Is there a set price for unfolding a flag on ours blog? This is a tough question. Would ours loyal readers like to make suggestions? (Hint: it is going to cost approximately 25 million yen to send my three kids through moderately private schools.)